Sitting on the Baby
by Anonymous033
Summary: When Ziva's neighbour asks her to babysit, Tony ends up learning some things about her. Now with a second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: When Ziva's neighbour asks her to babysit, Tony ends up learning some things about her.**

**Disclaimer: OMG! I own the kid! I own the kid! Yay! But I still don't own NCIS.**

**Spoilers: Reference to 7x06 "Outlaws and In-Laws".**

**This story is written by suggestion of, and is dedicated to, Tara Persad. I hope you like it! It's a little different from what I usually write. Lol.**

**-_Soph_**

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><p><strong>Sitting on the Baby<strong>

The frantic knocking on Ziva's door halfway into the movie startled them, and she exchanged a confused look with Tony before she hurried off to open it.

"Catherine!" Tony could hear shock colouring Ziva's voice, followed by a yelp and yell, "Tony!" He went into the hallway to find a blonde woman weeping in Ziva's arms, and gripping onto her so tightly that Tony thought he could see red marks start to form on Ziva's skin. He hastened over and gently detached the woman from his partner.

"Daniel's been in an a-accident," Catherine choked out to Ziva as she tried to collect herself. "I'm s-sorry, Ziva, I just came over to ask i-if you could watch Cassidy for me again. I need to go to the h-hospital and I can't bring her."

"Of course!" Ziva reassured the woman. "I will get Tony to take you to the hospital; you should not drive in this state." Tony shot a mock glare at her over Catherine's head, and she shot back a real glare.

"No, it's okay. Just…please. She's – she's in her room now she – just needs her bath and bed. Please. I can go to the hospital alone."

"Are you sure?" Ziva bit her lip worriedly.

"Yes." Catherine swallowed. "Thank you," she said breathlessly before she turned and rushed down the stairs.

Brown eyes met hazel. Ziva shrugged and slipped past Tony to go into her next-door neighbour's apartment.

xoxo

He found Ziva in the child's room two minutes later, after having first stopped the movie that they'd been watching and then locked up. She was trying to convince Cassidy to take a bath, but the curly-haired three-year-old could not be torn from her stuffed teddy bear, and would only frown stubbornly at her. "Mommy was crying," Cassidy informed her, as if that were an explanation for the behaviour.

"Yes, she was. Your Mommy was upset by some things. But she would still like you to take a bath," Ziva answered calmly.

"How do you know?" challenged Cassidy, and Tony raised his eyebrows. Both females ignored him.

"She told me," Ziva replied simply, unfazed. "She said that you were in your room, and that you needed to take a bath and then go to bed. Now, your Mommy is not here, but since she is upset, do you think you can do some things that will make her happy when she comes home?"

Cassidy thought about that and sighed. "Okay." She put down her bear and held out her hand. Ziva took it and led her into the bathroom, turning the tap on and making sure that the water temperature was right before she popped Cassidy into the bath.

"Where has Mommy gone?" Cassidy asked contemplatively as Ziva washed her.

"She is with your Daddy."

"Where is Daddy?"

Ziva halted her movements. "I think your Mommy will be able answer that better, Cassie."

"Why? Don't you know?"

"I do, but I do not know if your Mommy would like for me to tell you."

"I think she would."

Ziva smiled. "Are you a mind reader?"

"What's a mind reader?"

"Someone who knows what other people are thinking even though they have not said anything out loud."

"Oh. In that case, I'm not a mind reader, and I don't know what Mommy would like."

Ziva grabbed the soap from its container. "Unfortunately, I am not a mind reader either. So, what did you do today?"

xoxo

Tony sat on the wooden floor of the girlishly decorated room, leaning against Cassidy's pink-and-white closet as he waited for them to come back. A slightly damp Ziva entered the room ten minutes later, still holding the hand of a completely dry and wrapped-in-a-towel Cassidy, who looked at Tony in puzzlement but said nothing.

"This is Tony DiNozzo; he works with me." A mischievous grin crept onto Ziva's face. "I think he would not mind if you called him Uncle Tony."

Cassidy studied Tony for a few seconds and then stuck out her hand. "I like you, Uncle Tony," she announced her verdict. "My name is Cassidy."

Tony bit back a laugh. He smiled and shook the little girl's hand. "I like you too, Cassidy."

A shy grin lit up the little girl's face. "Thank you. But now I need to change into my PJs."

"Then I'll give you some privacy." He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Cassidy put on her pyjamas and crawled into bed after Ziva pulled back the covers. She curled up sideways into a ball and stared across the room, the moonlight reflecting off her large brown orbs. "I miss Mommy."

Ziva knelt down and brushed Cassidy's blonde hair from her face. "Your Mommy has to go and do some things. But it is your bedtime and you need the rest, so you still have to try and go to sleep."

"I can't sleep when I know she's upset."

"I understand. If I read you a story, would that help?"

Cassidy looked up at her. "Can you sing a song in Hebrew instead? Like the one you sang last time. It sounded so pretty."

"Of course." Ziva smiled and tucked in the covers. "Let me think. What did I sing last time?"

xoxo

The muted voice that drifted out into the hallway caught his attention, and he walked up to the door and pressed his ear against it, captivated. It was Ziva, singing. In that moment he realized that he'd never really heard her sing, despite having known her for years. He listened as her rich voice rose and fell, embracing the melody of a song that he'd never heard before; her tongue curled around words foreign to his ears but familiar to his heart. It was enchanting; spellbinding, even, and he could do nothing but stand there and admire the performance.

He jumped when the door swung back, revealing Ziva with a curious look on her face. She furrowed her brows at him and motioned for him to step back so that she could come out and shut the door.

"She is asleep," she whispered as they made their way into the living room.

"Oh." He cleared his throat.

"Why were you standing in front of the door?"

"I was…um…listening to you." Ziva sat down on the couch. "That was a nice song."

"Sit." She patted the spot beside her. He sat obediently. "I used to sing that song to Tali, when she had been younger. It was her favourite song."

"I've never heard you sing it."

"You have never asked me to."

"Kind of an impossible task, seeing as I didn't know it existed."

"That is true, but it is the first song I would have sung if you had asked me to sing."

"Would it?"

"Yes. It is my favourite song too."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Now that I think about it, I should regret not asking you to sing," Tony said vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because your voice is beautiful."

Ziva blinked. "It – it is?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yeah."

He could see the corners of her mouth twitching, as if she were trying very hard not to smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He pondered voicing his other thought. "You know, you'd make a good mother, too."

She laughed aloud this time. "I really doubt that, Tony."

"You weren't too bad with Cassidy. And Amira, Franks' granddaughter."

"Yes, but it is different when it is long-term."

"I bet you could do it."

"Are you so desperate for me to have a child, Tony?" she asked in amusement.

He beamed wickedly. "Just think of all the jokes I could come up with – ow!" His expression changed into one of pretend hurt as she removed her elbow from his side and smiled sweetly at him.

"You do not make fun of mothers."

"Speaking from experience?"

"No; women's intuition." She tapped her lip meditatively. "I wonder what kind of father you would make."

"A popular one. My kids would adore me. I'd teach my boys how to score chicks and my girls how not to be scored by guys."

She made a face. "I feel sorry for the future DiNozzos."

"What? It's good training!"

"Do you think we will ever have children, Tony?" Her gaze upon him was serious.

"I don't know. It's not something I've thought much about. It'd be nice to have someone to carry on the DiNozzo line."

"That is your reason for wanting to have children?"

"Well look at me, Ziva. I'm not exactly father material."

"Maybe when it came time you would be."

"Yeah. But I'd still need for someone to want to have my kids first."

"Hmm. I would want to have your children." The words were out before she could stop them. Their eyes widened at the same time; his with disbelief, hers with horror.

"Would you?" he asked with much interest.

"Because they would be very cute! I do not mean…Tony!" she snapped as he surveyed her with positive glee.

"It's too late, Ziva." He grinned at her. "We've established that A, you think my children will be good-looking, which means you think _I'm_ good-looking, and that B, you want to-"

"I did not say I wanted to do anything. I was speaking hypothetically!"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Your loss, really, because DiNozzo-David children would look awesome. And we could name them with a mixture of our names. A girl and a boy, Tiva and Zony. They'd rule the world."

"_Tiva and Zony?_"

"Okay maybe not. But my point is that you-"

"Is Mommy home yet?" a sleepy voice interrupted from the doorway.

"Cassie," Ziva said in surprise. She held out her arms as Cassidy stumbled across the rug towards them, rubbing her eyes.

"Is Mommy home yet?" the girl repeated as she climbed into Ziva's lap and buried her face in Ziva's chest.

"Not yet. But we will stay here until she comes home."

"I'm worried about her."

"Do not worry, sweetheart, she is okay."

"You can't know that." A hot tear ran down the small cheek.

Ziva kissed the top of Cassidy's head. "Sometimes, it is as important to believe in something as it is to know about it."

"Really?"

"Yes. My _abba _taught me that when I was a child. Now I am teaching it to you. Do you want to hear another song?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright." Ziva started to sing.

And the two others listened to the notes swirling around in a night air, filling the room with memories of peace and happiness. Tony watched the woman beside him, her brown hair swinging down and blocking her face from his view as she lowered her head to sing the little girl softly back to sleep. His hand itched; he longed to lift it off the couch and tuck her hair behind her ear, so that he could see her sing, rather than just hear her.

Because to him she was beautiful, really.

And to him, this was the picture of perfection.


	2. Chapter 2

**This takes place immediately after they return from babysitting Cassidy (Cassie), the daughter of Ziva's next-door neighbour, and Tony realizes that Ziva is being distracted about something. I'd originally meant this fic to be a oneshot, but Tara had another suggestion; so here it is, a continuance! I hope you enjoy it! That said, this chapter is, believe it or not, mushier than the first chapter, because it involves Tony and Ziva discussing their hypothetical kids. Consider it fair warning. :)**

**Dedication: To Tara, who firmly believes Ziva's eyes won't shut up.**

**-_Soph_**

**P.S. All changes in tense are deliberate. They, uh, got a bit caught up in the moment.**

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><p>"Penny for your thoughts?" Tony asked her the moment they stepped into the hallway of her apartment.<p>

"Hmm?" She closed the door and slid the bolts into place, and then turned around to look confusedly at him.

"What are you thinking about, Ziva?"

"What makes you think I am thinking about anything?"

"Your eyes. They're all…lost and looking-into-the-distance-ish. You always wear that expression when you're thinking about something."

Ziva furrowed her brows. "And how do you know this?"

"We've worked together for a long time. I know a lot."

She let out an incomprehensible hum from the back of her throat and walked by him into the living room. Picking up the DVD movie from her coffee table, she sank down into the couch. "Are we still watching this?"

He followed her lead and sank down beside her. "I'm more interested in your thoughts, actually."

She returned the DVD to its position on the coffee table. "Curiosity killed the cat, Tony."

"I should feel alarmed that you got the proverb right."

"You taught it to me."

"Huh. Glad to know all my hard work did pay off in the end."

"Do you think _I _will ever have children, Tony?" she asked abruptly.

He stared at her in surprise for a few seconds. He'd never have expected this question to come from Ziva David, assassin-turned-investigator, of all people. He shifted so that he could face her better. "Do you want to have kids?"

She bit her lip. "I do not have a simple answer to that."

"Then just give me your best one."

"I suppose that would be…theoretically, I would like to have children."

"Theoretically?"

"In reality, they are a lot more trouble. I am not fond of trouble, especially when it comes in the form of humans."

"So why do you want them theoretically?"

"I have no answer to that. I just do. It is like asking a woman why she loves a man; it is not explainable. She just does."

"That doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"That does not make it any less true."

"Well, I think you'll have kids, and you'll be good with them when you do." He saw something flash through her eyes; it was gone before he could fully grasp what it meant. "Ziva."

"What?"

"Stop hiding whatever you're thinking about. You know I'll always see it in your eyes."

"It is nothing, Tony."

"If it's nothing then you wouldn't have been thinking about it in the first place."

She pursed her lips and searched his face. "Why do you think I would make a good mother?"

"Because you would. Why do you doubt you would?" he countered.

She looked away, her index finger tracing small circular patterns into the couch. She took a deep breath. "We are…who our parents are, yes? We share their genes. They raise us, so we share their ideals, their beliefs, and their habits. My parents did not have the best habits. In my childhood…there was a lot shouting and alcohol. And there were people slamming doors and leaving."

"And you think you're gonna be doing that too."

"I was not brought up to be the perfect mother. I was brought up to be the perfect killer. I will never be standing at the door waiting for my children to come home, with a plate of cookies in my hand and the family dog sitting beside me. That is the picture painted in your children's books, yes?" She paused. "Instead, my children will be the ones welcoming me home at the end of the day. And they will be crying over my bruises and blood. When they ask me how my day has been I will have to lie to them and tell them that I have not shot anyone dead with the gun I have hidden at my waist. Tony, I will have to lie to them. Just like Elihad to lie to me."

Silence hung thick in the air; pushing against them, as if feeling the need to remind them about their less-than-perfect childhoods.

"Zi, look at me," he finally said. When she didn't respond, he gently lifted his hand to turn her face around. The tears glimmering in her eyes startled him. "You're not gonna be that kind of parent," he promised her solemnly, running his thumb along her wet lashes.

She lowered her eyes. "My _abba _and _ima _probably thought they would not be either," she whispered.

"Well," he struggled to find the right words to say. "You know, step one is seeing what your parents did wrong and realizing you could be different."

"But I am not."

"Step two, is trying to be different."

"And what happens after that?"

"Step three happens. It's realizing that you _are _different and that you've always been, simply because you realized you could be in the first place."

She broke into a small smile as an errant tear ran down her cheek. "Since when did you get so philosophical, huh?"

"I have my moments." He grinned and lightly brushed away the tear, keeping his hand on her cheek for slightly longer than necessary. "Tell you what. You name me godfather to one of your kids, and I'll make sure that one grows up properly. Unless of course…I'm the father. In which case I'll make sure all of them grow up properly."

"You are still on that, Tony?" she asked semi-exasperatedly, her tears forgotten.

"It intrigues me that you want to have my kids."

"I did not mean it in that way."

"I don't think you can mean 'I would want to have your children' in any other way, Ziva."

She did not bother dignifying that with an answer.

He sighed dramatically and clapped his hands to her shoulders. "_Hypothetically_, what would our kids be like?"

"Oh my gosh, Tony!"

"Just for fun."

"That is not my idea of fun."

"Your idea of fun is taking your gun apart and cleaning it piece by piece. It's not really something we can both participate in."

"Who says I want to participate in anything with you?"

"Well, we can't sit here for the whole night and do nothing."

"You could always go home."

"Do you want me to?"

She huffed reluctantly. "No. Fine, they would look like me."

"Hey-"

"Dominant genes. I have darker colouring."

"Oh yeah. I forgot all about dominant genes."

"But there is still a small possibility that they might look like you."

"Yeah. I hope they keep my eyes. Can't afford to lose these DiNozzo eyes…" he drifted off.

"I hope they do not inherit your narcissism," she retorted bluntly.

"If they get to inherit your looks, why don't they get to inherit my narcissism?"

"Because there must be more appealing characteristics that they can inherit."

"Really?" He leant into her, invading her personal space. "And what are those?"

"Get back, Tony," she murmured calmly. "Or I will take out my gun, and it will not be for cleaning."

He didn't move. "My charm? My class? My ability to quote from movies? My pranks? My sexiness?"

She made a face. "I do not see you and sexiness as belonging to the same category."

He plucked his hands off her shoulders and leant back, looking put out. "That's really cold."

"I warned you to get back." She laughed. "Okay. How about your values in life? I think you have good values."

"That's all? You're only giving me values?"

"Values are important. They are what drive us to do what we do, every day, for the people we love and the people we do not even know. For our family and our country."

"Yeah." He thought about that. "Okay, I'll take values. So our kids will be non-narcissistic, dark-haired children, with possible DiNozzo eyes and definite good values. What will we name them?"

"This is getting really strange."

"Ziva, you don't say you wanna have fun and then put only half of your effort into it. You gotta go all out. What would we name them? I'm still partial towards Tiva and Zony."

"Zony would not survive high school with a name like that. But Tiva sounds better, at least."

"You'd really name our daughter Tiva?"

"I would not. I am only saying it sounds better than Zony."

"Then what would you name our son and daughter?"

"I do not know; are we looking for Hebrew names or Italian names?"

"This is more complicated than I thought."

"I am glad you see the issue here."

"We could give them both."

"Then they would have very long names."

"Well, there've been longer. They'll just be grateful we didn't name them Tiva and Zony."

"That will require us to tell them that you had intended to in the first place."

"Yeah. Imagine the expressions on their faces when we do that." He cleared his throat and put on an accent. "Boy, girl, come 'ere. Me and your momma-"

"It was your idea. I had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, but we have to appear united in front of the kids."

"You are alone in this one."

"I sincerely question your team spirit."

"I left it at work."

He gave her an amused smile. "Your reluctance to cooperate saddens me."

"Tony, we are not really having these children."

"But if we were, it'd be nice to know we could work together."

"We would."

He gazed at the woman before him, tickled and moved at the same time by her confidence that together, they would hypothetically be able to raise their children well. "You sound so sure."

She shrugged. "We are good work partners."

"And you think that would extend to parenting."

"It would."

And it hit him – the picture he had seen for the first time that night. The picture of perfection. Ziva, seated beside him with a child in her lap, her head bent as she sang the child to sleep with her beautiful voice. All at once he came to the realization that she was right; love _was_ unexplainable. He'd never wanted to have a child of his own. But suddenly, looking into the chocolate brown eyes of the woman he adored beyond anything in the world, perfection didn't seem like such a mad idea.

Her breath caught when he took up her hand in his, but she didn't pull away. "Yeah," he quietly agreed. "We'll be great together."


End file.
